I opened my eyes to feel the delicate morning light kissing my face. The drapes were open, and the smell of fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen. I rolled over and sighed with happiness to be in my own bed in our New York apartment, with the pillow on Jason’s side dented from where his head had rested last night. Then I remembered—and sat up so fast I saw spots.
Aidan.
Aidan had followed me to the restaurant last night, and—bizarrely—pretended to be a waiter and approached our table. I didn’t understand why. He hadn’t acknowledged our relationship, or even said anything to indicate he knew me. Thank God for that, yet it made his behavior seem even more bizarre. Was he trying to get close to me, after I’d said goodbye? Or threaten me with the prospect of ratting me out to my family? I’d managed to escape without Jason or Hannah finding out about our fling—this time. But if Aidan followed me again, next time I might not be so lucky.
My gaze traveled around the familiar bedroom. It felt suddenly precious to me, and precarious, like my home of over a decade might vanish in the blink of an eye. We’d lived in this apartment since Hannah started kindergarten. I vividly remembered the day we moved in, what a palace it’d felt like at the time. We’d scraped and saved to afford it. A two-bedroom prewar with high ceilings and good light, on a pretty block within walking distance of Hannah’s school. Over the years, as Jason became more successful, I tried to convince him to upgrade. We could use more space. The kitchen and bathrooms were dated. There were more exclusive buildings, with better-connected neighbors who could’ve opened social doors. But Jason refused, and now I was grateful we hadn’t. This was home. This was where we’d raised our daughter together. I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and kiss the faded carpet. But I couldn’t take for granted my return to paradise. Not with Aidan out there, plotting who knows what. He was the snake in the garden.
Uneasily, I put my feet in my slippers. I pulled on my silk robe and made my way to the kitchen. Jason sat at the island, the newspaper open in front of him, dressed for the day in suit and tie. I’d forgotten how distinguished he could look, with his chiseled features, his dark hair graying at the temples. I remembered seeing Aidan on the beach that first day, looking like some goombah thug. Not just looking like one. He was a thug. He owned a gun and had a probation officer. I didn’t know what crime Aidan had committed, but now that he’d shown up to haunt me at the restaurant, I’d damn well better find out. Was I dealing with a petty thief or a killer?
Jason saw me, glanced at his watch, and stood up.
“Better get going. It’s later than I thought,” he said.
“Oh. I wanted us to have breakfast together. You should’ve woken me.”
“You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to bother you.”
He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. The familiar scent of the shaving cream and hair pomade he’d been using for decades made me want to cry. I grabbed his arm and kissed him on the lips, but he didn’t respond.
“Don’t go,” I said.
“Have to. Important meeting today,” he said.
But his eyes were shadowed, and his face looked strained. I felt like he was avoiding me. He was certainly keeping something from me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. Everything’s fine, hon.”
Jason’s words didn’t ring true. Was I imagining it? Could I trust him? Was this reconciliation for real? I was afraid to ask him whether he’d broken things off with the Russian woman. What if the answer was no?
“You seem … distant,” I said.
“I have a lot on my mind.”
I wanted to ask him about the bank accounts. He’d promised to put the money back in. There were bills to pay. But I didn’t want to seem like a nag or make him think that my only motivation for getting back together was cold, hard cash.
“Okay,” I said in a small voice, and let go of his arm.
If he left now, if we parted like this, I’d brood over it for the rest of the day. I had to ask.
“Jason—”
“What is it?” he said, sounding annoyed.
“I have to ask. That woman who came to the party? Is she—are you still—?”
“I told you, that wasn’t what you think. It was business. And the thing I’m working with her on is coming to an end. I promise. After that, believe me, I never want to see her again.”
“It was only business? You swear?”
“I’ve never cheated on you, Caroline,” he said, in a cold, angry tone. “I wonder if you can say the same. You might want to check your phone.”
My hands felt icy cold as Jason trained his gaze on me.
“Why?”
“It was ringing like crazy before. I put it to silent, so I could read the paper in peace. Repeat phone calls from someone named Aidan.”
“Aidan?”
“Yeah, who is he?”
“I’m not sure. What did he say?”
“I didn’t talk to him. He was calling you. That’s the name that showed up on your phone, anyway. Aidan with a heart.”
“Aidan with a heart?”
“Yes. Is there an echo in here? Who is he?”
Aidan’s name—not just his number—came up on my phone? With a heart? I was flummoxed. I’d never put Aidan’s number in my phone. And certainly not with some stupid heart.
“I—I.”
“You don’t know who that is?” Jason asked.
“The only Aidan I know is a friend of Lynn’s,” I said.
“Why’s he calling you ten times in the last hour?”
“Um, because, she’s in Florida. I was supposed to—uh, to let him into her house. He’s staying there while she’s gone, but he doesn’t have a key.”
“Why is his number in your phone?”
“Maybe because Lynn shared her contacts with me? Phones are weird like that.”
Jason nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. I tried to organize my features into some semblance of calm expression as my heart pounded with guilt and the fear of being found out. Though God knows why I felt so bad. I didn’t buy for one minute Jason’s story that the Russian woman was a business associate—which meant he’d cheated first. Now that we were back in our apartment together, I was prepared to forgive and forget. Was he?
“Will you be home for dinner?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you.”
He walked out, without any further goodbye, and my heart sank. This reconciliation was twelve hours old and already on shaky ground.
As soon as I heard the front door slam, I grabbed my handbag from the counter and pulled out my phone. When I saw the call log, my legs buckled, and I had to sit down. It was insane. There were fourteen missed calls and three voicemails since last night. And Jason was right. The calls registered as coming from “Aidan♥,” as if I’d entered his number with a cutesy heart beside it into my contacts. But I hadn’t. We’d never once talked on the phone; I didn’t even know his number. Frantically, I pulled up my contacts. There it was, under “A”—Aidan♥, with a cell number listed that I didn’t recognize. How the hell—? Well, of course. He’d gone into my phone and entered himself into my contacts during that wild night we spent together. I’d been drunk, passed out, hungover. It was my own fault. I had a distinct memory of Aidan watching me intently as I typed in my passcode. I remembered thinking that was odd and wondering if I should shield the phone from his view. But I didn’t, because I was afraid of seeming paranoid or condescending. I didn’t want him ragging on me for being a snob, so I let him watch. I basically gave him the code. How foolish was that? Then I left my phone lying in plain view on the bedside table. All Aidan would’ve had to do was wait for the right moment to type in my code and put his number in my contacts. I’d left myself completely vulnerable to a man I barely knew.
As the implications dawned on me, I started to sweat. My entire life was on that phone. Pictures of my family. My calendar, with every doctor’s appointment and lunch date and exercise class I had scheduled for months to come. The addresses and phone numbers of my loved ones—my daughter, my sister, my husband. My emails and texts, waiting to be plundered for personal details. All sorts of financial information. On and on. Aidan had uninterrupted time with my phone while I slept. He could know a lot.
Shit. He could know everything about me.
There was no telling how much damage he could do with that information, if he chose to.